


Domestic Bullshit

by Anzieizna



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Domestic, Grimmons, M/M, Movie Nights, also tucker and washington are mentioned BREIFLY, anywhoo, from a person who hasn't watched it, references to star wars, sarge is mentioned VERY briefly, they be cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23431501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anzieizna/pseuds/Anzieizna
Summary: “Simmons,” he called, “I’m gonna watch Star Wars. You wanna join?”He could hear a sigh and a thump. “I have work to do.”Grif shrugged. “Just bring the laptop in here.”“No, each time I do you just distract me and I end up not getting anything done.”“Simmons, get that stick out of your ass and watch Star Wars with me.”For a moment, it was silent. Then the soft padding of Simmons’ feet sounded across the floor, and he emerged from the back of the apartment with his laptop and a cup of coffee. He eyed Grif suspiciously. “I need to finish this, Grif, so you can’t distract me.”---- OR ----Grif comes home from work and decides he deserves a movie night. Simmons is a bit harder to persuade.
Relationships: Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	Domestic Bullshit

**Author's Note:**

> I recently read @Cyborg_Sabi's "OVerworked and Underpaid" and fell in love with Domestic!Grimmons. So... here you go?
> 
> Also, I included White Hat Hacker!Simmons because I am in _love_ with the idea of Simmons hacking for the good (the hackers are called red teams, you guys!! and their enemies blue teams! how is that not perfect?!) but I know nothing about hacking so sorry for any misrepresentation.
> 
> Same goes for the Star Wars references. Never seen it but these two are nerds so I had to include it :P

As soon as Grif opened the door to their apartment, his focus zoomed onto the couch and he all but threw himself on it. No, scratch that – he _did_ throw himself on it, because he was _that_ tired.

From further in the apartment, he heard some rushed clanging before a voice called out. “Grif, is that you?”

“No, it’s a rat.”

“So it _is_ Grif.”

Grif snorted, pushing his head into the pillow. He groaned, wondering how bad it would be if he just screamed straight into the fabric. Unfortunately, one of the neighbours would probably complain and their landlord would kick their ass. Well, he’d kick Grif’s ass. The guy – some old, senile dude named ‘Sarge’ who wore a permanent scowl and a crazy set of eyes – seemed to only have it out for Grif, constantly catching him in the elevator and accusing him of missing rent or being too loud or whatever else he could come up with that day. Simmons, for _some fucking reason_ , didn’t seem to have that problem.

In fact, Sarge had tried on more than one occasion to get Simmons to join in on the Grif-Terrorising. Simmons had done so gladly. Grif still hadn’t forgiven him.

Grif grumbled as a ray of light began to sting his eyes. Before he could move to block it himself, a figure stepped in front of the light and cast a shadow on him. Grif grunted appreciatively, and the figure sat on the edge of the couch, their hand moving to comb through his hair.

“Long day at work?” Simmons asked.

“You wouldn’t fucking believe,” Grif moaned. “We have a new guy at the bar, did I tell you that?" When Simmons nodded he continued, already scowling at the memory. "He keeps flirting with everything with a pulse, like, _every_ second. He even fucking made eyes at the buff security guard.”

“All your security guards are buff, Grif.”

He waved a hand through the air. “You know, the guy. Tall, frowny, you guys fought about some nerdy A.I. shit once.”

“Oh!” Simmons snapped his fingers. “Is he the one who’s growing a new beard?”

“Yeah.” Grif frowned at the image; it was _not_ a good look for that guy. Then, suddenly, he frowned even more and unburied his head from the pillow. Above him, Simmons raised an expectant brow. “Wait, where were you when I came in?”

Simmons swallowed, looking away inconspicuously. “Uhh. Nowhere.”

“Nowhere?” Grif narrowed his eyes.

The man nodded quickly, bringing his hand up to his face and tapping at an imaginary watch. “Ah, would you look at that, I gotta go! Gotta, uh, get back to work, you know how it is!”

“Were you in the kitchen?!”

Simmons quickly stood up and shuffled away.

Grif yelled as he ran out of the room, “you’re still banned! You’re not allowed in there, not after last time.”

“The fire wasn’t even that bad!”

“It was fucking _toast,_ Simmons.” Grif rolled his eyes. “I can’t imagine what you’d do with something bigger.”

“…then you probably shouldn’t look in the kitchen.”

Grif sighed. He got up, resigned to being left to clean up Simmons' disaster, whatever it was. _This_ was why he was the chef in the family.

Normally, Grif hated cleaning to the extreme and, if ever given a pack of cleaning supplies, would swiftly throw them out the window to never be seen again. However, banning Simmons from the kitchen had the unforeseen consequence that now _Grif_ had to clean the room. Ugh. Maybe he should have lifted it, just for this? Because Grif didn’t know what the ever-loving hell Simmons had _tried_ to make, but it was black and crispy and Grif was pretty sure it’d set off a radioactivity detector. Though, on second thought, Simmons would try to sneakily microwave some cereal or something and magically set the whole thing on fire.

No, Grif decided, it was a good idea to keep Simmons and the kitchen far away from each other. A _really_ good idea.

Once he was finished up cleaning the mess, Grif decided he deserved a nice hour – or four – of relaxation. He put on the TV, scrolled through Netflix as he opened a bag of Doritos, and pulled a blanket over his body.

“Simmons,” he called, “I’m gonna watch Star Wars. You wanna join?”

He could hear a sigh and a thump. “I have work to do.”

Grif shrugged. “Just bring the laptop in here.”

“No, each time I do you just distract me and I end up not getting anything done.”

“Simmons, get that stick out of your ass and watch Star Wars with me.”

For a moment, it was silent. Then the soft padding of Simmons’ feet sounded across the floor, and he emerged from the back of the apartment with his laptop and a cup of coffee. He eyed Grif suspiciously. “I need to finish this, Grif, so you can’t distract me.”

Grif hummed absently, too busy eyeing the way Simmons’ glasses were askew on his face. He patted the couch cushion next to him, waiting until Simmons was sat down before pushing the glasses back. The man squawked, sending Grif a deathly glare that did absolutely nothing to intimidate him -- seriously, Simmons was like a _kitten_ \-- before turning back to his laptop and getting to work.

Grif followed his lead, clicking play on a random Star Wars movie and settling into the couch. He watched for a while in silence, licking his fingers when the cheese built up from the Doritos, and eventually turned his eyes to the laptop next to him.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Work.”

Grif sighed, waiting a moment before waving a hand a hand in front of the screen. Simmons cried, slapping his arm away and sending him a look. “Grif! Leave me alone.”

“What, I’m just asking my boyfriend what he’s doing! What’s wrong with that? I’m being all caring and stuff.”

Simmons snorted. “And stuff,” he echoed, narrowing his eyes. “You’re just doing it to annoy me.”

“Maybe so,” Grif nodded, “but I still want to know what you're up to.”

Simmons sighed, but Grif could see a smile creeping up on the corner of his lips. Finally, Simmons pointed to the laptop screen. “A new company’s set up their database network and they want me to see how easy it is to hack it.”

“And?”

“Easy as fuck,” Simmons laughed, pushing his glasses up. “All I had to do was send someone a half-creepy email and I got in, it was that simple.”

“People are dumb,” Grif hummed, then nudged Simmons’ shoulder. “Hey, Luke’s about to tongue his sister.”

Simmons’ nose scrunched and he punched Grif’s shoulder. “Ugh, _gross_ , don’t say it like that.” His eyes were still drawn to the screen, though, and he watched for a few more minutes before seeming to catch on to what Grif was doing. “Hey! I told you _not_ to distract me.”

“Not my fault you like incest so much,” Grif held his hands up innocently.

“I do _not_ like – that’s not – oh, shut up.”

Grif laughed as Simmons shoved him away, studiously turning his attention to his work. Grif yawned loudly, whining when he noticed his Doritos were empty. He threw it to the side, aiming for the table, but instead sending it to join the many crumbs of previous Doritos on the floor. He waited for Simmons to yell at him, but it seemed like the man was truly wrapped in his work, so he settled back to watch.

A few minutes passed, and he yawned again.

Beside him the clacking of the keyboards stopped. Grif spied on Simmons from the corner of his eye, watching for a few moment before Simmons finally gave in to the urge to yawn. He grinned, lazily punching the air as Simmons groaned.

“No, no, you bastard, stop making me yawn! I have to _work_!”

“You know, if you’re tired, you won't be doing your best,” he said wisely. “Wouldn’t kill you to relax for a bit.”

“It’s never ‘a bit’ with you, Grif. It turns into _hours_.”

Grif shrugged, smiling innocently. “Perfect time for a nap.”

“I have a deadline." He waved his laptop around desperately. "I have to turn this in soon.”

“Not in the next four hours,” Grif said. He shuffled until his arm was thrown over Simmons’ shoulder, tugging the man beside him despite his grumblings. “Come on, cinnamon.”

Simmons waved a finger around. “Do _not_ call me that.”

“What’s wrong with ‘cinnamon’, cinnamon?”

The man groaned, burying his head in his hands. “If I promise to watch the movie, will you shut up?”

“Sure.”

Grif opened his arms wide, not bothering to hide his shit-eating grin. Simmons reluctantly put the laptop to the side, putting it to sleep as he buried himself under the blanket and settled against Grif’s chest. Grif pulled him closer, weaving a hand into Simmons’ hair and curling one of the strands around his finger.

He frowned at it thoughtfully, pulling gently. “Getting kind of long.”

Simmons hummed, eyes glued to the TV. “Think I should get a haircut?”

Grif mulled it over, tucking stray hairs away from his boyfriend’s eyes. “Nah,” he eventually said. “Could come useful in the bedroom.” A hand slapped his chest and he smirked. “What, you're against the idea, now? Didn't seem to be complaining yesterday when I--”

“You just spent two hours bullying me into watching Star Wars. You are _not_ getting me horny too.”

Grif sniggered, conceding with a contented sigh. “Whatever. I’ll find a way, somehow.”

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll shave it all off,” Simmons threatened.

Grif eyes him for a moment before deciding he was serious. “Fine, fine,” he said. “I guess I’ll give up my precious time to _just_ watch Star Wars with you.”

“You literally just made me stop working for this!”

“Shush, Simmons. I’m trying to watch the movie.”

Simmons groaned and buried his head in Grif’s chest. Grif just laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment and say hi down below!


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